


Madame Gazelle and the Secret Vampire Boyfriend

by pyrchance



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gen, Peppa Pig - Freeform, You can thank Pete's instagram for this one, quarantine vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrchance/pseuds/pyrchance
Summary: Pete has a bone to pick with Peppa Pig.Patrick is just bored.
Relationships: Patrick Stump & Pete Wentz
Comments: 22
Kudos: 25





	Madame Gazelle and the Secret Vampire Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Look, sometimes you choose the inspiration and sometimes the inspiration chooses you. Based on [Pete's instagram story](https://pyrchance.tumblr.com/post/631928664189206528).

“And then! Get this, Patrick. And then the book just _never mentions it again_. Like, Madame Gazelle is a fucking vampire and not even Daddy Pig or Peppa or, like, the _narrator_ says anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“How fucked up is that?I paid actual money for this book and that’s how you end it. It’s, like, am I just supposed to forget about the vampire thing the next time Peppa goes to ballet?”

“I’m sure it’s just a joke, Pete.”

“Wait. _Wait_. Does this mean Madame Gazelle never shows up in the dance studio mirrors? Patrick. Patrick!”

“I’m listening, Pete.”

“I need to go to the library, like, right now. What are you doing? You want to go?”

Patrick sighs at his ceiling. Pete’s panic is the perfect pitch to circle around his dead end thoughts like a fly. He’s probably supposed to be working, he supposes, though what that means lately has been difficult for anyone to figure out. When he shifts he finds the bare skin of his arms sticking to the leather couch and peels it away painfully. His socked feet are somewhere up near the coffee table. At least he put on real pants today.

“You want to go _now_?” Patrick asks, wincing as he sits up and pries the rest of skin off the sofa. He finds his shoes kicked off near the front door and starts on the laces. “Can’t you just order it?”

“What am I supposed to do when the kids ask about it?” Pete demands. “How am I supposed to explain Peppa’s favorite teacher is a creature of the night? I can’t just _not_ know. I’m the dad. I have to know. Come on, Patrick. Come with me.”

Patrick shoves his wallet into his jeans and pulls on a jacket and a hat. “I dunno,” he says, patting his pockets down for his keys. “I doubt they’ll notice. This seems like bit of a non-emergency.”

“It’s a _reading_ emergency,” Pete declares. “They’re already doing fake school. My kids’ literacy could be at stake.”

Patrick snorts. “Good one.”

“No time for jokes, Patrick. Hey, look. I’ll even buy you a coffee.”

That’s what Patrick’s been waiting for. There are perks, after all, to being off tour. Namely dairy.

“Fine,” he says, kicking his front door shut behind him and beeping his car. “I _guess_ I’ll come with you.”

Pete’s relieved sigh crackles over the phone. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

“I don’t—is this place even open?” Patrick asks, peering out the window of Pete’s SUV to the suspiciously empty parking lot. Parking lots are never empty in Los Angeles. It’s Los Angeles.

“I called while you were driving over,” Pete replies, already slipping his mask over his nose and jumping out the door. “Also, you can call it a library. It’s not going to bite you if it hears you talking about it.”

“Fuck off,” Patrick says and reluctantly unclicks his seatbelt to slide out of the car.

As they approach the library, Patrick’s not so sure Pete is right about this one. Patrick loves learning, loves exploring, but those tend to be done in more noise-friendly pursuits like languages and instruments. The last time he stepped foot in a library was probably senior year and only under duress.

Pete on the other hand seems perfectly comfortable shoving his hands into his oversized hoodie pocket and jog-walking up the sidewalk. He clearly knows where he’s going too. He takes them up a wide set of stairs to the front of the building. Two double-doors are propped open with a table boasting hand sanitizer. They dutifully take their spot on the tape marks outside before one of the librarians notices them waiting and waves them in. Pete weaves an immediate line to the kids’ section, plopping down on the floor right at the start.

“Uh, Pete. The _Ps_ are over there,” Patrick says, stepping around him.

Pete snags his ankle. “Dewey decimal. Seriously. I was joking before. Have you _never_ been to a library?”

“I read,” Patrick protests, arms crossing.

“Yeah, man. Like _magazines_.” Pete cackles. He rolls onto his side to avoid the kick Patrick sends his way, looking far too happy for a forty-year-old man sitting on the floor of the kids’ section.

“Anyway, the author’s name is Astley,” Pete says, once he’s deemed it safe to sit up again and inch back towards the books. “Peppa’s got a whole section. We’ve just gotta find the right ones.”

It’s not a hard task to do. Talking Pete down from _tearing all the books apart_ is another thing altogether.

“Right there!” Pete scream-hisses, jabbing his finger at a glossy story picture. “That’s her reflection right there!”

“Yes, okay, thank you, Pete,” Patrick says quickly as yet another library patron lifts her head in their direction. “Mystery solved. Congratulations. Can we go now?”

“But this is so much worse!” Pete cries, waving his hands over the collection of Peppas, all open and featuring a collage of a very non-vampiric Madame Gazelle. “Now things aren’t even consistent. This is like the who shot first thing all over again. They can’t just change it whenever they feel like it. What does that teach the kids?”

“Maybe the Halloween one is new,” Patrick tries, a bit desperately, as Pete’s complaints cross the bounds of whispers and into straight ire. “Maybe, uh, maybe Monsieur Gazelle bit her?”

“Madame’s Gazelle’s husband is dead, Patrick!” Pete denies. And yes. He’s definitely shouting now.

Patrick lowers his voice to a hiss, hoping against hope it’ll remind Pete to do the same. “Well maybe he didn’t really die! I dunno. Maybe he came back as a vampire and bit her. It’s a kids story, Pete. It doesn’t matter.”

Except Pete’s eyes have caught on Patrick and are slowly lighting up. He straightens up, and even without seeing his mouth Patrick can tell he’s smiling. “That’s genius.”

“What?” says Patrick, because that look on Pete’s face is never a good idea.

“Genius,” Pete repeats. “Of course that’s _exactly_ what happened.”

“What?” says Patrick, again.

Pete quickly sweeps the spread of Peppa books closed and begins shoveling them back on the shelves. When he’s done, he stands up, then slaps his hand onto Patrick’s shoulders.

“Patrick, I need your help.”

“Why?” Patrick asks, suspiciously.

Pete’s eyes bore into him, serious and golden. “Clear your schedule. You and me—we’re going to fix Peppa Pig. We’re going to write the best damn fanfiction my kids have ever known.”

“What?” squeaks Patrick, for a third time. They decided _decades_ ago not to talk about the forbidden ‘f’ word.

Pete’s fingers squeeze into his shoulders. “Monsieur Gazelle is making a come back, Trick. Don’t back out on me now. This was your idea.”

“Oh no,” says Patrick.

“Oh yes,” says Pete. The glint in his eyes is downright dangerous. “We’re doing it. Madame Gazelle is getting a vampire boyfriend. And you know what, Patrick?”

Patrick really, really _doesn’t_. “What?”

“It will _still_ be a better love story than Twilight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I've never read Peppa Pig in my life. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
